


Apart

by VentoSereno



Series: Vignettes [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-05-01 04:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VentoSereno/pseuds/VentoSereno
Summary: Things Fall Apart (Again)





	1. Apart

“You **cannot** be serious”

She considers him in disbelief. 

He looks desperate. Older, sadder, and more tired than ever before. Even worse, that closed, guarded expression, the one which has been threatening to make a comeback over the past few weeks, has now set up permanent residence on his face, marring his warm, loving features. 

She knows that expression. Nothing good comes of that expression.

“It’s better this way, Tonks”.

_Tonks? Who the fuck is Tonks? He’s never been fond of calling her that, even when they were still pretending to be just colleagues. He’s been calling her “Dora” for ages. So why the fuck is she back to being Tonks?_

She is thinking all this and is unable, for a long moment, to formulate any kind of rational answer. Thoughts and feelings are swirling through her so fast she can barely breathe. A sickening, rising panic is threatening to engulf her.

“But you can’t leave…you just can’t.” This is the best she can come up with. This, to her, is the sticking point.

He is moving about their room, haphazardly picking up objects and then dropping them almost as quickly. He’s packing. To leave. Leave her. Actually, not just her, anymore.

He does not seem in his right mind. He hasn’t for a while now, really, but it reached breaking point tonight when she had told him about the baby.

_The baby. She was having a baby._

“We’re _married_. This is _your_ baby. _Our_ baby. There’s a war on. You can’t just leave!” Her voice is rising now. Fury is coursing through her, replacing the numbness of shock. All of a sudden, the scene before her is crystal clear. Too clear. 

Her husband is abandoning her after finding out she is going to have a baby.

How can this be happening? This is a plot point in some dreary Victorian novel. Perhaps it has occurred to an unfortunate relation, or will happen to an unlucky friend or two. But not to _her_. Never _her_.

He turns to face her, holding a half-empty bag. The speed of his gesture causes the contents to spill over the bed. In a detached, almost out-of-body way, she takes in his possessions: a few bits of patched and faded clothing, some ink and parchment, an unframed photo of her.

“It’s the only way.” He drops the bag and runs trembling hands through his hair. In the light of the bedside lamp she notices the strands of grey outnumbering the dark brown. She wonders why she’s noticing these things, like it’s the last time she’ll see him.

“I can’t stay. I won’t stay. Ever since Voldemort and Bellatrix got wind of us you’ve been in danger. In _more_ danger, because of me. And now…a baby. How can I possibly live with myself if the baby is like me? Cursed?”

She moves towards him, not knowing if she wants to comfort him or restrain him.

“Remus…” but he cuts her off. “It’s better this way.” he repeats, like a broken record. He turns away and sweeps the scattered objects back into the bag. He makes to move towards the door.

“But you can’t…” she stammers, disbelieving, uncomprehending again. “You can’t…we’re married. Didn’t our vows mean anything? It was till death do us part. Not till-something-comes-up-and-you-scarper.”

He shakes his head at her, sadly. “We shouldn’t have done it to ourselves, Dora. It’s my fault. I should never have allowed us to get so carried away. I see now that it could only have ended this way.”

He moves towards the door. The fury and the panic are back now, in full force. She loses it.

She cries. She begs. She shouts. She holds on to his robes in a desperate attempt to stop him walking out the front door. Dignity and standards of normal adult behaviour are long forgotten. She has to stop him from leaving. She can’t even bear to consider what will happen if she doesn’t.

It’s not working. In frustration, she throws a heavy paperweight at him, hitting him squarely in the head. She was always a mean shot. He flinches, but it doesn’t make her feel better.

“If you leave - you bastard, you coward – then consider us **done**. Don’t be coming back here, begging me to let you in. If you abandon me, if you abandon our baby, there can be no going back. Do you understand?!” She bellows at him as he leaves.

He nods. “I’m sorry.” 

He turns, and disapparates.


	2. Wrong

She’s back at her parents’ house. She’s not lived here since before she left for Hogwarts, aged eleven. 

She’s sleeping in her childhood bedroom, walls still graced with posters of the Weird Sisters and photos of her school friends, drawers full of old essays, every corner crammed full of memories. This stuff had seemed all-important, not such a long time ago, before her life had changed irrevocably. Now it all seems futile and distant, a load of clutter belonging to a different girl living a different life.

She is not the same person anymore. 

She wonders if this is the thing she resents Remus for the most, and Merlin knows, she has reason enough to be angry at him. The old Tonks, she is sure, hadn’t pined, or cried for men who didn’t want her, or wasted any time at all on anyone who had hurt her. 

She’d left their – no, _her_ \- flat after he’d been gone for twenty-four hours. At first, she thought he would definitely, definitely come back, so staying put had seemed the obvious thing to do. As the seconds ticked by, and turned into minutes, which traitorously turned into hours, this shakily held conviction had started to crumble. 

Her arrival at her parents’ house with her belongings had been surprisingly uneventful. She had expected shock, outrage and indignation on her behalf, but her parents had taken the news surprisingly well. They had hugged her, and told her they loved her, and that no matter what, they would always be there for her and her baby. They hadn’t even mentioned Remus, or referred to him in any way. She had been extremely grateful for that.

She sighs and shifts onto her side so she can look out of the window, with its view of the driveway. 

_This is not how things were supposed to turn out._

She passes a hand over her flat tummy and wonders again whether she could’ve been wrong about her pregnancy.

She had expected her first reaction to be one of revulsion – like all young women, she’s spent most of her life in fear of an accidental pregnancy. But it hadn’t been like that at all.

She had felt happy. Happy and excited, if a bit embarrassed at the prospect of having to explain to the Order exactly why she was going to be unable to go on future missions. 

And she had been so desperate to tell Remus - even though before they’d got married, he had explained his reasons for not wanting, for not being able to have, kids. At the time, she’d readily agreed. Motherhood had never seemed like her sort of thing anyway. 

But when she’d found out, she’d felt as if the life inside of her was the natural, logical extension of their love. Despite the sheer stupidity and impracticality of the timing, it had felt right. 

Well, that was just another thing she’d been wrong about, ultimately.


	3. Two galleons, four sickles, one knut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super slow update! Life, innit, and I have difficulty writing up this particular turning point in the Remadora saga. 
> 
> Remus walking out on Tonks at this juncture is such a dickish move, I personally find it hard to write it in a way in which:  
> a) He doesn't come across as a total heartless bastard  
> b) She can conceivably forgive him
> 
> Hence the slow update. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Two galleons, four sickles, one knut._

He weighs the money in his hand, as if turning it over and over again between his fingers could increase the amount in his pocket. 

The entirety of his earthly fortune is held easily in the palm of one hand. 

He wonders, vaguely, exactly how long he can live on such a measly amount. A while, probably. He’s certainly been poorer than this before. More destitute, certainly.

He’s never left a wife behind, though. A wife and a child, to be exact. 

To distract himself from this dangerous thought, he gets up and stretches his legs. He walks up to the back of the pub and looks up, watching his breath steam in the night sky.

He’d been here with Dora, ages and ages ago. Before the war had begun. Right at the beginning of everything. When she’d just been an attractive colleague, an intriguing acquaintance, Sirius’ cousin. 

At yet, even then, he’d waited around inside the pub for hours, hoping she would show.

She’d dragged him to a curry house nearby and had forced him to try all of her favourites - the paneer (rubbery but not unpleasant), the sag aloo (delicately spiced and delicious) and the vindaloo (his mouth had been on fire for days afterwards).

She had laughed at all his reactions, and had eaten her own food with gusto, washed down with cheap Indian lager. She’d told him all of her work stories – who was rumoured to be sleeping with who, which missions had ended well and which in disaster.

He’d watched her, and he’d listened, and he’d laughed, a lot. Afterwards it had struck him how comfortable he always felt in her presence, like he’d known her all his life but was only just getting round to meeting her. 

He realises now that this was their first ever sort-of-date. The first of many sort-ofs between them: sort-of seeing each other, sort-of staying the night, sort-of breaking up, sort-of breaking her heart.

He should’ve kept his distance. He should’ve left her then, laughing and joking, in that south London curry house. 

He’s possibly a bit drunk, because he’s feeling very maudlin, and he’s partly convinced that if he were to get up, and walk over to that curry house now and wish very, very hard, that old version of Tonks might appear in the window. Happy. Safe. 

This will be their relationship, now. He will have to watch her, from afar. Perhaps his child, too. 

The thought of being apart from her, from them, makes him groan and drop his head in his hands.

His mind works feverishly with questions. What happens now, exactly? Will she want a divorce? Can one get a divorce for a marriage that the Ministry currently considers illegal? Is she a free agent now? Is he? What about the baby? 

Remus opens his hand so he can count out his coins again. 

_Two galleons, four sickles, one knut._

Half a sickle for a room tonight, and then tomorrow is a new day. He will have to find work. What sort of work, he does not know, but there is nowhere else left to turn. He will have to remember how to stand on his own two feet.

_[And he cannot imagine, after that disastrous encounter with Harry, how anyone else in the Order could react positively to his arrival on their doorstep. In his mind’s eye he pictures Molly, saying nothing, but looking terribly disappointed.]_

He will also need money to help support the baby – he’s got to do his bit for her. Or him. And Dora, of course. 

He tries to picture her over the upcoming months. Heavier, slower, more tired. He feels sick with guilt. Will she go on that Order mission she was scheduled to do on Friday? She musn’t go. He’ll write to her tomorrow and tell her he will do all her work for the Order from now on. She’s got to rest and look after herself. 

He almost smiles then. Like she’ll take a blind bit of notice. And what right does he have to tell her what to do anymore? 

He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Or a pot to piss in, or a place to hang his hat, come to think of it. 

God, the things she’d screamed at him when he’d left. It pains him now to remember how terrified she’d looked. He wishes he hadn't left in such a blind panic. Maybe, if he'd stopped to listen, they could've found another way...? 

He shakes his head an drains the last of the firewhiskey. 

_Pointless to think about it now. It's too late. You ruined it._

He starts to drum on the tabletop with his fingers, to ward off the hopelessness that looms over him. 

Tom comes out, nods at him furtively, and starts collecting glasses at another table. He lingers outside longer than is necessary, but avoids Remus' eyes. There is a group of rowdy drinkers inside, clearly sympathetic to the new regime. Tom is scared of being in his own pub, but wary of being seen talking to a known werewolf. Eventually, he heads back inside.

Alone again, Remus talks himself through all the reasons why he's done the right thing. Dora _will_ move on and love another. A man who won't put her in danger merely by association. The baby...maybe the baby won't be like him. And if it isn't, no-one ever needs to know it was Remus'.

_It's simpler this way. The others can't understand because they don't know what it's like. But that's ok. The important thing is to do what's best for my family._

He tries not to listen to Harry calling him a coward, and Dora's voice begging him not to leave. He repeats to himself, as the night grows darker and colder around him, that James and Sirius and Lily would've understood. 

_But what if the baby _is_ like you? You'll leave Dora to handle that by herself? And you think Voldemort will call off his mad dog just because you've left? She's in _more_ danger without you, not less._

Remus lets his forehead rest against the table, his shoulders slumped. Not for the first time tonight, he closes his eyes and imagines he’s never been bitten.

__

In his mind's eye, he's in bed with his Dora, who holds a baby-shaped bundle in her arms. They're happy.

__

Remus doesn't bother to wipe the tears that run down his face.


	4. Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how the angst continues. This time, from Tonks' PoV

He’d come back.

On the night of the third day since he’d walked out, he’d arrived at her family’s doorstep, drunk and a little shambolic, to be greeted by her stony-faced parents. 

She had been waiting, of course. Though she had not expected him to return, she had been waiting. 

She had been so used to interpreting every sound as his knock on the door, every creak as his foot on the stairs, every rumble as his voice, that when she had heard of all these things, as well as the quiet whisper of her parents’ voices, she had dismissed the whole thing as a daydream. She had been dozing, lying fully dressed on her bed, when her bedroom door had opened and he had appeared. 

She’d been waiting for three days and he’d still managed to catch her unawares.

They had stared at each other, the short physical space between them an insurmountable gulf. 

She'd noted, in a curiously detached, out-of-body way, that she didn’t feel angry, or relieved, or anything at all. She was numb. 

He had asked to come in, and she had nodded. He had slipped in quietly, totally out of place in her teenage bedroom, clashing with everything in it. Not for the first time, Tonks wondered what it was about him that had managed to ensnare her heart so completely, because really, he was not the sort of man she had ever imagined falling for. 

He had sat on the edge of her bed and started talking. She hadn’t been able to follow any of it. She had watched his face and his mouth move as if he were an actor in a silent film. She had looked on as his emotions played across his face, begging her to forgive him. 

When he had stopped, he had looked at her beseechingly, expectantly. 

She had wondered why on earth he seemed to think she knew what to do, and why no-one had ever bothered to tell her. 

“I’m tired.” she had said. “I’m going to go to sleep now. It’s up to you where you go. I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave again.”

He had said that no matter what, he would never leave her again. She had laughed then, bitterly. “You said that the night Dumbledore died. And when you moved into the flat. You swore it again when we got married. I don’t believe you.”

She had rolled onto her side after, effectively dismissing him. He had left the room. She had not cared where he slept that night.


	5. Unwanted guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the fall out

He places a cup of tea in front of her, then sits by her awkwardly, trying to be as close as possible whilst still respecting her personal space. 

She shifts away from him. Ever since his return, they don’t know how to _be_ around each other. 

It’s been an uncomfortable few days. 

Remus moves around her parents’ home like the unwanted guest he is, overly attentive, excessively apologetic. Her father manages to be politely controlled but her mother flat out ignores him. 

Tonks hovers between feeling bad at the shabby treatment he’s receiving from her parents, to thinking that actually, he deserves far worse. She can barely bring herself to speak to him either. 

Their interactions have been brief and sporadic, characterised in turn by tears and shouting from her, and repeated, increasingly desperate attempts at explanations from him. There are times where she feels she is calm and collected enough to hear him out, but they mostly end in her walking out of the room. 

She’s gleaned the long and short of what he’d done during his three-day absence. The fact that it’s Harry who’d finally managed to make him see sense still stings. 

_“So you’ll listen to a seventeen-year-old schoolboy, but not to your wife?!”_

Remus interrupts her thoughts with a hand on her arm. “Dora, I’d better go, or I’ll be late. Will you be ok here?”

She wants to scoff or say something cutting, but she restrains herself. She just nods, tersely.

He gives her arm a squeeze. “See you later.” He hovers, but doesn’t come any closer. 

As he moves away, it suddenly occurs to her that she may never see him again. What a stupid, unresolved way for things to end between them.

So she turns and calls “Be careful out there, will you?”

He gives her a small smile. “Always.”


	6. Ultimatum

Later that day, he finds her in her bedroom. He’s been sleeping, most categorically, in the guest room. He’s not welcome to spend a night with her yet, if ever again. 

Despite her anger, she feels relief on seeing him before her, unhurt.

”How did it go?”

Remus sighs and sits down. “Alright, actually. The twins have had an idea to set up a resistance radio transmission. To provide hope and information to our side.”

She nods. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Yes”. Silence settles between them.

She goes back to the book she’s been pretending to read, whilst contemplating her future. Their future.

Eventually, he speaks.

“Dora, will you listen if I try to explain about Harry again? About why it was I finally saw sense?”

He’s looking at her with an equal amount of yearning and determination in his eyes it almost pulls at her heart. Almost. 

She shakes her head.

“Remus. I’ve been thinking. Things can’t go back to the way they were before.”

He nods silently. 

“The way I see it, things can go one of two ways. And it’s up to us to decide which way we want this to go.”

“It’s up to you.” 

“No. I don’t want to be in a relationship where one person is so desperate to make it up to the other they no longer get a say in what happens. That’s not what I signed up for. If that’s the sort of marriage you want, I’m not interested.”

He begins to speak but she shakes her head. 

“What I wanted, what I’ve always wanted, was for us to be a team. A partnership. But we both know that so far, Remus has played only for team Remus, and he is the captain, the coach and the manager. You’ve made all the decisions, irrespective of the effect it has on other people. Such as your wife. And more recently, your unborn baby.”

He opens his mouth, but does not interrupt.

“So, there are two options. Option one, we decided to call it a day. I know you’re going to deny it, but even before the baby, you were unhappy. You regretted it almost as soon as we said ‘I do’.” She takes a few deep breaths to thwart the tears that are threatening to spill.

He takes the opportunity to intervene “I’ve never regretted you or us…”

She cuts him off. “We admit we made a mistake. Difficult to get a hold of a judge in the midst of this war, but assuming we survive, when it’s all over we get a quiet divorce. Hardly anyone knows that we’re married, no-one will care that we got divorced. In the meantime, you leave. I decide what to do with the baby, one way or another.”

She feels his eyes burning into her, feels the force of everything he wants to say. But he stays quiet.

“Option two, we stay together. But we do not, and I repeat we do not, go back to how things were before. I’m asking you to change, Remus. I’m ready, have always been ready, to accept every part of you. The too old, the too poor, the too werewolf. But what I can’t, what I won’t accept, is a man who doesn’t stand by me, who doesn’t have my back. Because I know I deserve better than a husband who abandons his wife. I know I deserve better than a father who abandons his baby.”

She stands up. “So you need to think, very, very carefully, about what it is that you want. If any part of you still doubts this, us, then I would rather we just walked away from it now.”

He reaches over to grasp her hand, but she moves it out of the way.

“Dora, I want you and the baby…”

“But you _didn't_. Not when you left.” He opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off, again.

“Don’t say anything now, because I want you to think about it. And I need time to think too. Because even admitting that you want to, or that you are even able to change, I still don’t know if I’ll be able to trust you again.”

She continues, almost talking to herself now. “All I’ve wanted is you, for so long, it’s almost like I’d forgotten how to want anything else. But I do want other things, Remus. I don’t want to be shackled to you in an unhappy marriage with a baby you didn’t want. It’s not too late to go back, to _unchoose_ this. Despite this war, I can, I will be happy. Whether or not that’s with you.”

He looks stricken when she walks out of the room.


	7. Ted leaves

A few days later, they’re all round the kitchen table, eating dinner.

The atmosphere is tense, but for once, it’s not because of Remus.

It’s because of Ted.

“I’ve got to go.” He says, looking at his wife and daughter. His attitude is one of quiet resignation.

“No, you don’t!” Replies Dora, putting her fork down on her plate with rather more force than is strictly required. 

“She’s right.” Andromeda shoots Ted a look that suggests to Remus this is not the first time she’s hearing of his plan, and not the first time she’s argued against it. 

“It doesn’t make any sense. Remus and I are wanted by you-know-who, probably more than you, or any other Muggle-born. It’s safer if we stick together. We can get a secret-keeper, and then we can just sit tight.”

Remus nods. He agrees with his wife’s plan. He also wonders how she must feel, what with all the most important men in her life either dying or running away on her.

Ted shakes his head sadly and reaches over to hold his daughter’s hand. 

“The difference is they’ve got the Ministry behind them now, on this muggle-born hunt. Your mother dealt with some goons they sent around yesterday. She said I was out, but how long is that excuse going to work?”

He pushes some official-looking documents over to the middle of the table.

“They said I had to go to the Ministry next Monday so I can be added to the register.” Ted leans over and reads out loud: _“Failure to comply with this order will result in repercussions, both to those who fail to present themselves, and those who harbour any unregistered muggle-borns.”_

Ted looks up and tries to smile, bravely. “So you see? I can’t stay here and make you all even more of a target than you already are.”

“So we’ll all go. Somewhere far from London. Somewhere quiet. We could even go abroad.” says Dora, standing. She begins to quickly and methodically stack plates. She radiates determination as she directs them all towards the sink. There is not even one break. 

Ted is shaking his head. “It won’t be safe to stop in one place for long. I’ll be on the move all the time, and how could you manage that, with a baby on the way?” He pats her hand reassuringly. “Don’t fret. I’ll go alone - I’ll be faster and less noticeable. I know all sorts of people I can pop into see along the way, muggle and wizard alike. I’ll be careful, and I’ll be safe. And when the baby is on its way I’ll come straight back, no matter what.”

Remus can tell, as he’s sure everyone else round the table can, the huge effort it’s costing Ted to sound so certain, so calm, for his little family. They all need so desperately to believe that everything will be alright. 

Andromeda stands next, every bit as determined as her daughter. Only Remus and Ted are still sitting, their women towering over them. Remus sees, not for the first time, where Dora gets her sheer strength of character from. 

“Of course Dora must stay put. She must rest.” Dora scoffs loudly at this. “I am _not_ an invalid, you know!”

Her mother carries on as if she hadn’t spoken. “But I will go with your father. There is some safety in numbers, after all, and we will look after one another.”

She turns now and sears Remus with her most piercing glare. “The question is, who will be here to look after you, Dora?”

Dora splutters “I do not _need_ looking after!” and Ted is arguing that they must both stay at home where it is safe, but Remus is quiet, and returns Andromeda’s stare calmly.

 _So, it has finally come._ Andromeda hasn’t looked, let alone spoken to Remus since he came back, and he’s been wondering when the storm of his mother-in-law’s anger was going to break. 

He’s glad it’s finally happened. Living in dread of it has been far worse than the real thing. 

He stands, and Dora and Ted turn to him.

“I will be, if Dora lets me, of course. Though I agree” he turns to his wife, who is staring daggers at him “that you are not an invalid, you parents and I want to ensure you’re supported at a time of great upheaval and danger for us all. You are most at risk, partly because of your family, mostly because of me. On top of that, this pregnancy may make you more physically vulnerable.”

Andromeda nods, and though she is still fixing him with the same intense glare, he knows she is satisfied with his response. Ted is also nodding. 

Dora looks takes them all in, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t exactly know what this unholy alliance between the three of you is about, or why all the members of my family want to smother me with their protection. But I will tell you all this. I am not a child, the last time I checked I am still an _auror_ , and I am in no need of any of your _support._ You are all free to do as you like – run away, go into hiding, gallivant off with Harry Potter or whoever else. And I will do as _I_ see fit.”

With that, she moves out of the kitchen. 

Remus has never spent much time with his in-laws without his wife, even before he walked out on her, so the experience would have been awkward at the best of times. As it is, the silence hangs between them, thick and cloying.

He breaks first, moving towards the sink to wash up, just so he has something to _do._

“Leave that.” says Andromeda, automatically. Still treating Remus like a guest who has over-stayed his welcome, but who will inevitably move on soon. 

Ted approaches him and puts a hand on his arm. “Remus…I know things have been difficult…well, for all of us. And I know Andi and I, well, we’ve perhaps not been as understanding as we could have been.” 

Remus distinctly hears the sound of Andromeda snorting as she follows Dora out into the conservatory. 

Ted smiles a little ruefully. “You’ll understand when your own child is born. I just wanted to say that it would mean a lot to me – to the both of us – if we knew you really were back for good. I can’t bear to leave, thinking my daughter and future grandchild don’t have the very best chance at making it through this war.”

Remus nods. “I understand. And as I said before, I will be here for as long as Dora lets me. I’ve said as much to her. I won’t leave again unless she asks me to.”

Ted nods, still looking worried. He looks as if he would say more, but silence reigns as the two men put the kitchen back to rights.


	8. Water

A few nights later, Remus is lying on his back, unable to sleep.

He watches a moth make its way around the room, slowly, lazily, beating its wings against the dying of the light as if resisting the encroaching darkness could make any possible difference.

He’s wondering what book to pick up to change the course of his maudlin thoughts when he hears light footsteps on the landing. Slow. Hesitant. As if trying to decide whether to press on or turn back. 

He closes his eyes and wills himself not to hope for too much, but his heart pounds in his chest, traitorously.

A light knock, then a whispered “It’s me. Can I come in?”

He sits up too hastily and manages to knock a glass of water off the night stand. 

“Yes! Yes. Please come in.”

Then she’s standing in the doorway, and they’re just looking at each other. She’s in some ridiculous pyjamas from her youth, he’s still in his shirtsleeves, sitting on the bed, glass in hand but a slowly spreading, tell-tale water stain on the carpet. 

He stands up, gesturing towards the bed, setting the glass back down. “Sit. If you’d like.”

She nods. They sit, side-by-side, stiff and awkward. 

“Sorry for bursting in on you.”

“Hardly.”

She rubs her arms, self-consciously. “I can’t sleep, worrying about dad. Saw your light was still on. I thought we could talk.”

“Of course. What about?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Anything but the war. Or us.”

He nods, slowly. “I could read to you, if you’d prefer?”

“Yes.” She moves so she’s reclining on the bed and closes her eyes. 

He’s casting an eye over his books of poetry, wondering which one to choose, when she murmurs “No. Tell me a story. Tell me one about the Marauderers.”

He settles against the headboard then, relaxing. He’s on familiar territory here. He turns to see that she’s curled up, quite comfortably, at the other end of the bed.

He closes his own eyes and begins to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Things are picking up (ish)


	9. Cot

“I can manage perfectly well by myself, thank you.”

She’s stubbed another toe whilst putting the crib together, and Remus is hovering, trying to help. Even though she’s made it perfectly clear that she intends to complete it by herself. 

Remus nods, and moves away, but does not leave the room.

She returns to the project at hand, and continues to steadfastly ignore him.

The Weird Sisters are playing in the background as she puzzles over the instructions again. Maybe the slats need to be arranged differently?

She hums tunelessly to herself as she tries to slot them one way. Then another. Finally she throws the wood away in disgust. There’s got to be a spell that can help with this bit.

She turns to the manual to find Remus has beaten her to it. 

“I think this might help.” He does some complicated twirling motion with his wand and the slat jumps into place.

She narrows her eyes. _Bastard._

“Fine. You do it then.”

“I just…I thought we could do it together.”

“Did you? Big fan of doing things as a team now, are we?” The sarcasm in her tone hangs heavily between them and does not need to be clarified. 

He stands up stiffly. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help, but I can see I’m only getting in your way.”

“Or, you know, you could’ve listened to me when I said I wanted to do this alone. But you don’t _ever_ listen!”

He flushes angrily. “I do listen. I just thought I’d help because you were stuck on that step. I’ll leave now, if my presence is so offensive to you!”

“Oh, now you want to be present? If Harry had agreed to have you on his mission you wouldn’t even be here now! I’d be building this thing all on my own, wouldn’t I?” She’s fully shouting now, not caring if her mother hears every word.

His expression is one of mingled guilt and fury. She hates that expression. 

He takes several breaths, seemingly unable to speak. 

“But I am here now…”

“Yes, you’re here now. Tomorrow? Who knows. And so excuse me for wanting to learn to stand on my own two feet.”

She turns from him them, wanting to get back to joints and slots and nails because they are so much simpler than the tangled mess of their relationship.

He’s approached her so quietly from behind she’s startled as he places her hands lightly on the top of her arms. 

“I need you.”

He says it so quietly, she has to strain to hear him. “What?”

“You’re perfectly capable of standing on your own two feet. It’s me who needs you. And our baby.”

She turns to face him, slowly. 

“I can’t live without your pink hair, without listening to the crap you call music, or watching you slurp your tea. I can’t, and if you’ll have me, I don’t intend to.” 

She doesn’t want to give in by an inch, but her eyes prickle and burn.

“I know I let you down, Dora. And there’s nothing I can say now that’ll change that. But if you let me, I’m going to prove to you that I’m worth it.”

She’s quiet as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go if you want me to.”

She hesitates for a beat, then shakes her head. Nestles her head under his chin, his arms drawing her closer. 

“I think I needed to hear you say that. Keep telling me how much you need me.”


	10. Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this update has taken AGES.

As far as he can tell, they’re stuck in limbo.

He’s still banished to the guest bedroom, but most nights she slips in to his bed, when it’s late and the house is dark and quiet. Sometimes she sleeps turned away from him, the sheets and blankets between them an insurmountable distance. Other times she lays her warm body on his and he feels waves of almost unbearable desire course through him. Often, in the mornings, she’s gone before he wakes up. 

Worst are the nights she doesn’t come at all. Those evenings he tosses and turns, unable to sleep, wondering why she’s stayed away, and trying to piece together a way forward for their family. 

Her body is starting to change. First comes the morning sickness, more aptly described as all-day-sickness, which leaves her tired and listless. She goes off milky coffee and all her other staples, so Remus patiently explores and experiments with alternatives for her. They declare it a success when she can stomach jasmine tea and dry toast for breakfast, and they decide to go from there.

Then come the mood swings, wild and unpredictable and unpleasant, particularly for her. They’re made worse by the uncertainty between them, worry for her absent father, and the realities of war pressing in on them from every side. Remus hovers, never knowing whether his presence will make it better or worse. At times she clings to him as if he were the only anchor stopping her life from floating into chaos. Other times she pushes him away, as cruelly and as deliberately as she knows how.

Lastly, slowly and more subtly, her bump is starting to show, just barely straining against her now snug t-shirts. There are late nights and early mornings when she lets him run his hand up and down her slight belly, and he is unexpectedly thrilled to be able to feel the child they’ve made together. He wants to touch her, every day, preferably more than once, but Dora is not always amenable and he doesn’t want to push his luck. The best mornings are those when he can get away with kissing her on the forehead and then on her bump and wish both his wife and child good morning. He basks in the satisfaction of her rare smile, then, but he knows better than to think the worst has passed between them. 

Those fleeting moments are just the eye of the storm.


	11. Lost

She finds Remus in the study, reading the documents she’s been reviewing all week, trying to predict patterns of Ministry activity. She’s been cooped up for months now – with Remus and the rest of the order insisting she take a back seat, she’s been relegated to admin tasks. She now has a lot of insight into how stir-crazy Sirius must’ve felt, back at Grimmauld Place.

But Sirius didn’t have to live with his mother, or deal with crazy hormonal mood swings, which are another unexpected joy of pregnancy. Today it’s making her feel stupidly, distractingly horny, but they haven’t had sex since Remus left, and she’s not exactly sure where they stand on that. 

He looks up as she approaches, and smiles. “This is really good work, Dora.” She rests her chin on his head and leans over to look at his hands, which are drumming a quiet beat on the desktop as he peruses her latest report. He has lovely, masculine hands, with long, tapered fingers. She’s so intent on thinking about the feel of those hands running over her she doesn’t hear what he’s saying. She looks into his face, his brow creased, awaiting her response.

She straightens up, walks around to the front of his chair, and lowers herself to straddle his lap – carefully – her bump creating a little distance between them. 

He’s surprised, but his arms encircle her straight away – “Dora…”. She doesn’t respond and starts to place slow kisses along his neck. She’s missed his clean, Remus-y smell. 

He lets his head fall back with a gasp. She begins to unbutton his shirt as his hands move up to her neck, tangle in her hair. He tries to kiss her but she avoids his lips, and grinds her hips down onto him instead. His mouth falls open and he lets out a moan, low and deep. 

“Dora…” 

“I want you.” 

He doesn't respond but his hands move to the back of her dress, trying to find the zip. As it falls away, he runs his hands down her sides, grips her hips, and thrusts. It’s her turn to let out a little gasp. 

She grips the back of the chair as he runs his tongue down her neck, and onto her cleavage, his hand kneading her breasts roughly. She lets out a little painful hiss - “Careful…they’re so sensitive at the moment.”

His hands drop as if burned. “Sorry…”

She lets out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t say stop touching me…”

Her hands go to his lap and brush the outline of his erection, then move to undo the button of his trousers. 

“Dora…I love you.” he tries to kiss her again, but she shakes him off. She moves so he can slide his trousers off, but he grips her arms, forcing her to stillness. They’re both breathing heavily. “Nymphadora, look at me, please.”

She does so, instinctively annoyed at the use of her first name. He looks confused. “Why won’t you kiss me? What’s going on?”

She lets out another frustrated sigh. “Why does anything have to be going on? For goodness sake, I’m just _so_ horny.” She rocks her hips against his again. “Please…can’t we just…not over-analyse things? For once?”

“I’m not trying to over-analyse things, but I can’t do this if you won’t kiss me…”

She moves off his lap, angry now. “Can’t, or won’t?”

He reaches out for her but she’s drawing away, doing up her dress. “Dora, please, just talk to me.”

“No. I thought I’d made it abundantly clear that I don’t want to talk right now, Remus.” she snaps. “And don't look like that - when I want to talk, you want to run!”

One look at him, his mouth drawn into a thin, straight line, his cheeks pale, is enough to tell her he’s furious. He gets up so quickly the pile of documents he’d sorted so neatly comes tumbling down, in a dramatic mess, which would be funny if they weren’t both so angry. 

“That’s not fair. You know that’s not fair!” he pushes the chair away from the desk so violently it scares her. “We can't go on like this, Dora. If you want me to leave, tell me, and I will. If you can’t forgive what I did, then don’t. But I won’t live like this, with you holding it over my head forever. I can’t.”

“Oh, so you’re going to leave again? Great, that’s what you do best!” She sweeps an arm towards the door to the study. “See you then! Laters. I’ll write to you and let you know how your child is getting on, shall I? Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it!”

As she shouts at him, all furious bravado, she can almost believe her own words, though deep down, she's terrified at the prospect of him walking out. And yet there's a small, twisted part of her that wants to push him, and keeping pushing him, until he breaks, because she can't let herself believe he won't leave again. She'd rather he did it now than later, once the baby's come and she's let her guard down, only to be disappointed again. 

She wills herself to find the words to explain that she _wants_ to trust him, to believe in him again, but something is broken between them and she doesn't know how to put it right.

They stand there looking at each other, half his buttons undone and his shirt untucked, wondering how to make him understand. Instead they stare at one another as if they’re strangers living in the same house. He breaks first, and leaves the room.


	12. Heart-to-heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, has it really been a month since the last update?!
> 
> Apologies. All the usual excuses apply (dogs eating homework, blizzards impeding my internet connection, etc). 
> 
> But here is the long-awaited update! *Awaited mostly by me, as I had absolutely no idea what was going to come out of this scene.*
> 
> Tried my hand at a bit of a heart-to-heart between Tonks and her mum. Andromeda is a new character for me to write, so I hope I've captured her to everyone's satisfaction!

Later, in the kitchen, Dora stews over a pot of tea. Her mother is busy around the kitchen, tidying, a whirlwind of energy. 

That’s how it’s always been in her family. Her mum, a full-time Ministry civil servant and undisputed head of their household; her dad, an oasis of calm, merrily plodding through life, taking the time to marvel at the wonder of magic forty years after discovering he was a wizard.

Their home is all topsy-turvy now. She’s inexplicably married, and pregnant, intermittently sleeping in the guest bedroom with a husband given to the occasional disappearing act. Her father is alternatively in hiding and on the road, according to his sporadic letters, his absence still an unfillable void.

Her mother is the only constant. She’s currently ironing underpants like they’ve personally offended her. 

Tonks stirs her tea whilst looking outside the window. She hates that the concealment charm around the house makes the view of their back garden fuzzy. Her dad is a certified green thumb and has spent much of his adult life outdoors. Prize winning roses guard the winding paths. Flowerbeds grow a multitude of colourful annuals, shaded by hydrangeas liberally scattered at intervals. A wisteria plant trails over the back of the house, filling the air with indescribable sweetness. 

Remus has taken up garden maintenance, which has won him many brownie points with her mother. In fact, recently it seems that a kind of truce has been agreed between them. As far as she knows, no words have actually been spoken, but her mother now tolerates him politely. Occasionally, Tonks has walked into a room to find them, heads together, deep in conversation. 

There is no doubt in her mind that is she is the subject of these clandestine meetings. Their shared objective, indeed their only shared passion, is plotting on How To Best Keep Dora Safe. 

Her mother’s voice breaks her out of her reverie.

“At some point you’ll have to decide, you know. One way or another.”

Tonks shoots her a contemptuous look but does not respond.

Her mother continues undeterred. “About Remus, I mean.”

“Yes. Thank you for the clarification.”

Andromeda looks up from the pile of laundry that she is piling neatly on top of the dresser.

“He loves you, you know.”

For some reason, this makes Tonks feel acutely embarrassed. She’s sick and tired of having to listen to other people affirm how much her own husband loves her. It’s almost a confirmation that this is in doubt, which is her hidden, most secret fear. 

“I see it every day. The way he looks at you, the way he reaches out for you. I admit at first I was so determined to hate him I didn’t notice it but since he’s been here – well, it’s written on his face, plain as day.”

Tonks rolls her eyes at this. “Hark at you, a fully paid up member of the Remus Lupin fan club. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Her mother scoffs. “Of course I’m on your side. I will never ever be on anybody’s side but yours. I am just saying – that while no parent’s ideal partner for her child is a werewolf” –  


“You’re so racist, mum.”

“- A werewolf, and despite – the turbulent course of your relationship, shall we say - I think he will be a good husband and father. Really, I do.”

Tonks merely shrugs. Her mother pauses to watch her, then continues. “I know your father and I weren’t very easy on him, particularly at first. But he really has grown on me.”

Tonks smiles, but is silent for a long time before she responds.

“I’m just so tired of feeling that Remus won't ever really have my back. No matter what he says now - there’ll always be the risk that one day something, anything, could set off all his deep-seated werewolf issues, and he’ll be off like a shot. Again.” Dora continues, crumbling a sugar cube between her fingers.

Andromeda inclines her head thoughtfully. "Perhaps if we'd spent most of our lives hiding a dreadful secret, one which despite our best efforts eventually got out and caused irreversible damage to our prospects, both financial and personal - maybe we'd have deep-seated issues too." 

Dora gapes at her mother. "Who are you and what have you done with Andromeda Tonks?!".

Her mother waves her wand at the sugar pile Dora has created on the table before continuing. It disappears soundlessly.

“But there is no love without trust. If you feel that you truly will not be able to trust him again, you shouldn’t stay married to him.”

“But just now you were defending him, saying how brilliant he is!”

Her mother shakes her head briskly. “Who’s defending him? The man is an idiot, there’s no denying it. I’m just trying to tell you that I’ll stand by you, whatever decision you make.”

Andromeda moves to take the laundry into the other room, but pauses in the doorway to look back at her daughter. “Life is short, my girl, and there’s no denying that in the time you’ve known him, he’s made you very unhappy. However, as you love one another, and you’ve risked everything to be together – perhaps it’s worth another shot?”

Dora shrugs, and takes a sip of her tea. 

“But at the end of the day, if it all ends in tears, there are plenty more fish in the sea for you, Nymphadora.” Andromeda calls from the other room. 

“Gross.” Responds Dora, automatically, but whether in response to her mother’s dating advice or to the use of her name is unclear.


	13. Goodbye Ted

News of Ted’s death had started as an absence of information; the period of time between his letters extending from days to weeks to months until they had petered out completely. In Remus’ experience no news in war had never meant good news, and Dora had just begun to put out feelers and ask around, quietly, for any information about her father’s whereabouts.

Finally, the dreaded news had come tucked away on the back page of the Prophet. A dull November afternoon torn asunder by two lines of black print. Ted’s life and death neatly summed up.

_Edward Tonks, muggle-born on the run.  
Died evading capture Monday last. _

Dora and Andromeda had looked so lost, holding onto one another for support, the newspaper lying abandoned at their feet. Remus had felt their grief as an almost palpable physical pain.

____

Dora had looked to him then, grief-stricken, for help. He had sworn to himself that he would not fail her again. 

____

Remus had immediately charged himself with finding Ted’s body. He would do it to bring back dignity to the man who’d sacrificed everything for his wife and daughter. To bring peace of mind to his beloved family. 

____

In the end there had been very little to find. A common grave by the side of a path in the New Forest. The ground covered with sodden leaves, the trees surrounding the quiet mound bare. Remus, spade in hand and fighting down his nausea, had dug out the remains of his father-in-law. Ted had been dead longer than the newspaper report stated. Four, maybe five weeks at least, but he was no expert. 

____

He would not let Andromeda or Dora see him like this. As Remus had dug, he'd kept his wife’s happy, laughing face in his mind, and he'd promised himself he would never, ever, tell her the truth. He had re-interred Ted’s remains neatly in a small, light coffin, had brought him home and lied. 

____

“Quick.” He’d stated. “Painless”. 

____

They had re-buried Ted in his beloved garden, just outside the back door, in easy view of the house. “He’ll always be watching over us.” Andromeda had said. 

Over the last few months Remus had caught her looking out the window often, her hands full but still, whatever action she’d been in the middle of forgotten.

____

That night, and every night after, Dora had slept in his bed, seeking the reassurance offered by his warm weight wrapped around her. He had read to her, coaxed her to eat, spent days in bed with her when she couldn’t bear to get up and face the world. He’d helped Andromeda write to their extended family and friends of Ted’s death, and had found photos of him to plaster around the house, so that every room now resembled a shrine to him.

____

He had encouraged both Andromeda and Dora to talk about Ted, of the good times, of all the laughter and happiness that had always lived in their house. Remus had absorbed it all, wishing he'd had more time to get to know him. Trying to learn from their memories how to be a good father, a good husband.

____

More recently Dora had started to smile again. The mornings when he'd woken her with a kiss. The first time the baby had kicked and she'd put her hand over his, to guide him onto her bump. 

She had smiled, and cried a little too, when he'd suggested they name the baby Teddy, after her father.

____


	14. Cravings

She’s huge. Stupidly, ridiculously huge. Like she’s swallowed half a cow and it’s stuck round her middle. She can no longer bend over to pick things up. If something falls to the floor, it’s dead to her. Even getting dressed is a struggle. Remus is having to help her in and out of her pants for goodness’ sake – though this morning that had lead to a very pleasurable interlude.

She’s irked by all this. It’s all very well for him – his life hasn’t changed, has it? He can drink, and bend over, and lie flat in bed. He doesn’t have a heffalump inside him who kicks him awake every time he’s about to drop off. She thinks this as she surveys him through half closed eyes. 

_He’s come to know her grumpy look intimately over the last few months, so he looks down and really focuses on the task at hand – massaging her feet. Her ankles have ballooned which has not helped improve her mood._

The latest “Potterwatch” has finished so now she’s idly flicking through the channels, looking for something soothing to listen to. A pile of baby books is balanced precariously by Remus’ elbow. His reading these last few months has been gratifyingly focused.

“I’m hungry.” she announces, switching off the wireless with an imperious flick of her hand.

“Indeed, your Ladyship? And what can your humble servant procure for you this fine evening?”

She moves to kick him but he dodges her deftly. Bastard.

“I can get it myself!” she huffs, knowing full well she has no intention of doing so, and she won’t have to. He is already standing up. He’d do anything for her.

“Pray, make it as disgusting and improbable as possible. I think we only have crackers and sardines left in the pantry anyway.”

She sticks her tongue out at him as he leans forwards.

“On one condition, of course.”

She raises an eyebrow. 

“You owe me a kiss.”

She shakes her head at him, laughing, but he swoops in and kisses the end of her nose, catching her by surprise. 

He grins at her as he moves away, after adjusting the pillows behind her back. “I’ll be back.”

“Git.” she calls after him, and smiles.


	15. Ministry

He wakes to her burrowing her head into his shoulder. 

Then the sharp dig of a knee in his side.

“Why are you taking up so much room?” she whispers grumpily.

Remus, still half asleep, is perfectly aware that he is right up against the edge of the bed, with only a corner of the blanket covering him - but he knows better than to argue with his thirty-eight week pregnant wife. 

He rolls onto his side deftly. “Sorry, love.” He brushes a kiss against her clammy forehead, his hand finding its way expertly to where their baby is enthusiastically kicking her awake. 

Her eyes are squeezed shut, as if trying to force herself back to sleep. He rubs the sore spot on her bump, trying to soothe them both, ignoring his own precarious position. 

Suddenly she starts, throwing Remus and most of the duvet off. “It’s pointless. I just can’t sleep like this.”

She moves over slowly, encumbered by the weight around her middle. Remus is on his feet and by her side in a moment, ready to help her up.

“I can manage.” She huffs, whilst leaning heavily onto him and allowing him to ease her onto her feet. 

“Of course, my love.” He reassures her, whilst wrapping her in her bright purple dressing gown, which clashes terrifically with her hair, which this morning is a new, corkscrew orange.

Suddenly, her face brightens, and a smile softens her features. “I’m being a right grump this morning.”

“You? Grumpy? Never.” He says it with a perfectly straight face, which makes her grin even more. 

“I’m being horrid. Are you too scared to say so?”

“Me, scared of you! How old are you again? You’ll be sixteen next year, right?”

She laughs and holds her arms out to him. He wraps her in his own, looking at their reflection in the mirror. 

“Good morning.” He whispers against her forehead, kissing her. “Hi.” she whispers back against the base of his throat. Teddy kicks enthusiastically, as if to join in.

After a few long moments she shifts away from him. “I need tea.” 

“Let me make it for you.”

He opens the door for her as she leads the way down into the kitchen.

“Were you always this annoying? Or is it just since I’ve been pregnant that you’ve become so gentlemanly?” 

“I have always been extremely annoying. I tried to warn you, but you did so insist on having me.”

She smiles but then looks pensive as she fills the kettle and strains to reach for the mugs. 

Remus knows better than to offer to help when she is in this sort of mood.

“I just hate being treated as an invalid. I’m perfectly able to make tea, and open doors for myself.” She shoots him a challenging look. “And able to go on proper missions to help the Order. Not just a bit of admin work behind the scenes that a trained pigmy puff could do with its eyes closed.”

Remus puts his hands on her shoulders and rubs them thoughtfully as the kettle boils. He knows no real response is required of him – they have been over this many times. 

“I know it’s been difficult. We’ve both been cooped up for months..” he starts.

“At least you get to do Potter Watch” she interrupts him, as she levitates two slices of toast to the table.

“As did you, until that time we were raided and you avoided capture by a hair’s breadth.” A shiver runs through him as he passes her the butter. 

He doesn’t like remembering what a close shave that had been. 

“If anything happened to you, Dora…or to the baby..” She rolls her eyes at him, her mouth full of buttery toast. She hasn’t offered him any. 

“I’m serious.” He joins her at the table, mugs of tea in hand. “What on earth would I do with myself if you were taken from me? What would your poor mother do?” He shakes his head. “No. Much better that I should take any risks that cannot be avoided.”

Dora splutters indignantly. 

“Well I could say exactly the same. I know you don’t think your own life is worth much, but it means an awful a lot to me.” She pushes one of the slices of buttered toast towards him. 

He smiles as he accepts it.

Their discussion is interrupted by an owl tapping impatiently at the window. 

It is a ministry owl, bearing the green-and-purple crest of the new minister for magic. 

He knows an owl cannot truly said to have a political opinion, and yet this one seems to regard them both with a look of cool disdain as it drops the letter carelessly onto his breakfast. It swoops straight back out, without waiting for food or water. 

“Twat” says Dora, as she shuts the window behind it.

The letter is addressed to her. 

Remus hesitates for a beat. Nothing good can be contained in that letter. He’s almost considering ripping it up but she’s already reaching for it.

“Don’t, Dora.”

She looks at him, bravely.

“Well they’ve already fired me, deemed my marriage illegal, and killed my father. I don’t see how this letter can wreak anymore havoc onto my personal life.”

She tears it open. He watches her face carefully for a response. He knows it’s bad when she has to compose her face carefully, to stop any emotion crossing it. 

“What? What is it now?”

He stands to reach her across the room.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“It’s definitely something. Tell me, Dora. We said no more secrets.”

A small tear has slipped out. He brushes it away.

“It’s so stupid. I don’t know why I'm letting it get to me.”

“What have they done?”

“Nothing. I mean, it’s nothing, in the grand scheme of things. They’ve just..revoked my status as an Auror. I mean – obviously they fired me months ago – but this means they’ve actually officially struck me off. I’ll never be an Auror again.”

At these words more tears fall, soundlessly. 

Remus feels himself go rigid.

“I’m sorry.” He says, automatically. 

The silence hangs heavy between them. They both know why she’s been struck off, which was the same reason why she was fired in the first place. 

Him.

He knows better than to add anything else – anything he says will be misconstrued. He will be accused of regretting their marriage, or wanting to walk out again. She will defensively try and prove to him that their marriage is well worth all of this humiliation. He will try and not let himself suspect that perhaps she is beginning to regret her decisions.

So they stand quietly in her mother’s kitchen, as the tea goes cold and the toast goes soggy. 

Outside, a tranquil, pink dawn is breaking.


	16. Hello Teddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the most slowly updated story in the world? Yes, it is. Sorry.
> 
> PS. Well bitch I just hit the 500 kudos mark. Is that a mark? Idk but it seems like a lot. Thanks Ao3!

“Do all midwives smell of alcohol?...Or is it just that…you should never use a back-street midwife recommended by one...Mundungus Fletcher?” Dora asks between pants. Remus smiles at her, gently, but she can see the concern in his eyes as he frowns at the poor woman, busy at the other end of the bed.

“No. Keep looking at me.” She whispers and Remus turns his gaze back towards her, giving her hand a squeeze.

Dora drops her head to the pillow and closes her eyes as she feels another contraction start.  


A tension, building from the base of her spine and closing around her bump. The pressure building and building, until the wave of pain breaks and edges away, bringing sweet, sweet relief, even if it is only temporary. 

She focuses on her breathing, panting through it, her hand exerting a vice-like grip on Remus’. He is sitting next to her, has been, for hours now, never once betraying pain, tiredness or discomfort. He hasn’t left her side for a moment, despite the midwife loudly complaining of “anxious men who only get in the way”. 

Her mother is constantly in and out of the room, bringing food, tea, and whatever else the midwife requires, which at one point had worryingly included “a glass of sherry, please”. Remus had loudly interjected that they would all drink something when the baby was born, and not a minute before. Andromeda had nodded enthusiastically in agreement and turned smartly on her heel and out of the room, no doubt going downstairs to lock the liquor cabinet and hide the key. 

Dora had felt very grateful to her over-protective husband in that moment. 

The pressure is easing off now, and she relents her hold on Remus. She keeps her eyes closed and takes in lungfuls of air while she can. She’s so tired. _What if she hasn’t got the energy to go on?_

As if on cue, Remus leans in and whispers “You’ve got this. If anyone can do this, you can.”

He wipes her clammy forehead with a flannel charmed to stay cool, then runs it down her neck and the top of her chest. She’s too tired to respond but she puffs out a noise that she knows he will understand to be her thanks. She has mere minutes before the next wave begins to build and she must gather her strength. 

Much of the night has passed this way – grabbing precious minutes of sleep between contractions, being examined at regular intervals by the midwife, reassuring Remus and her mother that she is fine.

Andromeda comes back into the room, delivering more “Mother’s Helping Hand”, a pain-relieving potion for labouring women. Supposedly it is only available to buy on prescription, but let it never be said that Nymphadora Tonks doesn’t have contacts, inside and outside of the Ministry. 

Her mother must have approached the bed, because Dora hears the gentle clink of the bottles being arranged on the bedside table, then a hand on her forehead. “Do you need anything, darling?”

Dora shakes her head, still keeping her eyes closed. She listens to her mother quietly offering to swap with Remus, to give him a chance to go and have some rest. 

The midwife loudly chimes in to this proposal. “You should be supporting the girl in shifts, or you will exhaust yourselves, and me.” Her brisk voice breaks the quiet in the room and both Remus and Andromeda shush her aggressively. The midwife continues to shuffle around her equipment, muttering crossly “Well there’s no point in _all_ of us staying up _all_ night.” 

Remus refuses, politely but very firmly. “Dora is doing all the work. The least I can do is help her through it.”

Tonks wants to intervene but she doesn’t have the energy. She listens as Remus strokes her sweaty hair and whispers into her ear about how excited he is to meet their baby, how proud he is of her, how much he loves them both. Andromeda sits by quietly, knitting. 

Ten more contractions pass, or perhaps it’s a hundred, before she opens her eyes again. Dawn is breaking and the midwife looks satisfied. “You’re fully dilated. It won’t be long now till you’re screaming the place down.” 

Dora is unsure whether this is meant to be taken as an encouragement or a threat. It seems like both as her contractions become more intense, leaving her with less and less recovery time. She can’t think or speak as pain takes over and the overwhelming desire to push is the only thing that makes sense. 

“That’s right, good girl. You can start pushing with your contractions now!” says the midwife, positioned between Dora’s legs. Dora is busy letting out a guttural moan that sounds extraordinarily cow-like and hardly hears her. “Go on! Give me a good push!”

White pain radiates from her groin now. It stings and burns and it’s unbearable, worse than the contractions, worse than the pressure forcing her to push. Dora lets out a strangled groan as Remus’ face swims in to view. “I love you. Well done. You’re doing brilliantly.”

Dora shakes him off, she’s got to push, she’s got to keep pushing to make the pain end. “Stop!” Shouts the midwife. “Tonks, you’re doing great. The head is crowning now. I know it hurts. I need you to stop pushing with your contractions. Let the head come out nice and gently. You’re doing brilliantly.”

Dora groans again. She wants everyone telling her she’s doing brilliantly to fuck off. Particularly Remus, who got her into this mess in the first place. She can’t articulate it right now, but if she survives this he’s never coming near her ever again.

Another contraction is coming on and the pain brings tears to her eyes. A loud cry fills the room and it takes her seconds to realise it’s coming from her. It’s so loud but the pain is blinding. “Keep panting” her mother’s voice, close to her ear. “Keep panting. You’re almost there. Almost there.”

She’s breathing loudly now, gasping. “She needs more pain relief. Give her more pain relief!” Remus is shouting now, waving the potion in front of her face. The midwife ignores him, and fixes Tonks’ eyes with a determined stare. “One more contraction and the head will be out. It’s a cake walk after that. Are you ready Tonks? You’re going to meet your baby.”

Tonks nods. 

Yes. She’s ready.


	17. After-birth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took a while

They’re in love. 

In love with this small, warm bundle that is inexplicably their son. 

He’s small, and wrinkled, and already smells of home. He’s happily taken up residence on Dora’s chest and there doesn’t seem to be much reason to move him from there at the moment. 

They gaze down at him in wonder. When his hair starts to shift in colour, at first they think they’ve imagined it, perhaps it’s just the reflection of light from the fireplace. Slowly, as his hair continues to lighten it seems undeniable, their child is a metamorphmagus. 

Dora shouts for her mother to come and see. Remus shushes her gently, runs his hand through the strands of his son’s soft, silky hair. “To show signs of magic within minutes…hours of his birth…what a wizard he will be! My son…our son…” the rest of his sentence hangs in mid-air. 

They can’t think of many words to say. They just look at one another, their eyes tired and burning but unable to close them, not yet, as they look down at their baby, who is sleeping contentedly. 

Finally, Dora’s head begins to droop. Remus kisses her forehead softly, eases Teddy out of her arms. She mumbles something. “We’re here” he whispers. She sleeps. 

Now Teddy is slumped on his chest and their hearts beat in time. He ought to be panicking, oughtn’t he? He has absolutely no experience with babies. And this baby is the most important, the most precious. And this baby has potentially been tainted by his father’s curse. 

And yet Remus’ mind is curiously blank, curiously focused. This is it now, the three of them – whatever happens, his mission will be to love and protect his wife and son. 

He’s amazed now to realise that things really could be this simple. 

He doesn’t realise his eyes are drooping until Andromeda is patting his shoulder, and offering to put Teddy in his cot. Remus gives him up so Andromeda can get a cuddle in too. 

For the first time in what feels like hours, Teddy lets out a little grumble, which grows in crescendo to a wail. Dora’s eyes snap open, panicked. “He’s hungry” says Andromeda, passing Teddy back to his mother.

“Ok, we can do this, Teddy-bear. We are going to try this again.” Remus helps Dora extricate herself from her sheets and helps angle Teddy’s head as the two women try to get him to latch. Eventually, after much frustration, and questioning whether the baby is getting any milk, they think they’ve succeeded.

Remus holds Dora’s free hands to his face and presses a kiss to it every so often. She turns her tired face towards him. “This feels….so weird.” This makes him smile, then laugh, and they find themselves suppressing quite giggles. They’re delirious with happiness, tiredness.

“Ow. Laughing hurts. Everything hurts.” Dora lays her head back against the pillows, eyes closed.

“Sorry.”

“You should be sorry, this is all your fault.”

He smiles. “I know. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Do you know what…I am absolutely famished.” This threatens to set them both off in hysterical giggles again, but they control themselves.

“I’m dying for a cup of tea. And a slice of toast. By one slice I mean maybe….four? With a pile of butter. And Marmite.”

“Gross. Ok. I’ll be back.” He leans over to kiss Teddy, then his wife. “Behave yourselves, you two. No highjinks until I get back.”


End file.
